Friends
by denise1
Summary: A tag to Desperate Measures, Sam and Jack shippy


Friends

By

Denise

Jack walked into the infirmary, struggling to balance the two coffees and the bag of bagels. Technically he knew he was sort of pushing the envelope, bringing Carter breakfast in the infirmary. But the idea had occurred to him in the wee hours last night and …it just felt right. He knew he'd do the same for Daniel. He had done the same actually. More than once he'd delivered Starbucks and danishes to the archaeologist. But different rules applied to Carter. A year or so ago, he likely wouldn't have thought twice, but things had changed. Not only did he have to consider how Hammond saw things, he also had to be aware that there was nothing Simmons and Kinsey would like more than to cast more aspersions against them. Of course if it weren't for Kinsey's rampant paranoia, Carter wouldn't be in the infirmary right now.

They would have been allowed to investigate the possibility that the Aschen were the people spoken of in 'the note'. Instead of doing it the easier and safer way, they'd ended up endangering the lives of one of their own and sacrificing the life of an ambassador. He hadn't really gotten to know the guy but he'd seemed pretty nice, even if he had had a slightly less than practical taste in shoes.

"Good morning, Colonel," Janet said, looking up from the chart she was writing in. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Huh?"

She nodded towards the bag. "Breakfast, I assume," she prodded.

"Ooh. Well…I just thought I'd bring Carter something other than oatmeal for breakfast. You haven't released her yet have you?"

Janet shook her head. "No. She's still here. And she's asleep," she said when he moved to walk past her.

"Asleep? It's 0900," Jack said. He knew Janet had wanted to keep the major over night just to be on the safe side. She hadn't lost consciousness but she had taken one hell of a tumble. Plus he knew she'd been given some rather hefty narcotics to battle the pain as they set her shoulder.

Janet lowered her voice. "She had a rough night, sir. There was a lot of bruising. Other than the pain from her shoulder, it's going to be a few days before she's moving freely," the doctor said. Technically she knew she didn't need to tell Jack anything beyond the fact that the major wouldn't be fit for active duty for a few weeks, but she also knew that he had real concern for his friend and teammate. "I'll tell you what, colonel. She's going to need a ride home. How about I call you when I release her and you can play taxi driver?"

Jack raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "That sounds good, doc." He turned then turned back. He held out the bagels and coffee. "Have a nice breakfast."

She took the offering with a smile and watched him leave the room. One down. Now all she had to do was convince Sam that she was going to need a little help for the next few days, and that a certain colonel was just the man for the job.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Still floating in the netherworld between sleep and awake, Sam shifted in the bed and immediately bit her lip as she was reminded of two things. First, she was in the infirmary. The smell of antiseptic and the faint murmuring of voices telling her that she wasn't alone. And the sharp stabs of pain in her back and shoulder reminding her exactly WHY she was sleeping in the infirmary.

Her eyes still closed; she concentrated on breathing, waiting for the pain to subside. She knew, apart from her shoulder, it was just stiffness and pulled muscles. And she also knew if she'd just get up and move around it would help. And if it'd stop hurting, she'd get up.

She really hadn't felt that bad last night, once Janet had set her shoulder she'd fallen asleep, helped no doubt by a liberal dose of drugs. The real problem had come about three am when she'd woken up, her bladder demanding attention, and realized that her muscles had stiffened substantially during the night. The short walk to the bathroom had been torture and she'd finally made it back to her bed, her eyes brimming with tears. It really hadn't taken much prodding by the night nurse for her to take some strong painkillers and try to get back to sleep.

She was tempted to ask Janet for some to take home with her. Tempted, but she wouldn't. She had a funny idea that if her friend knew just how much she hurt she'd either end up in the infirmary for a few more days, or camping in Janet's spare bedroom. Neither was an option she wanted. Right now all she wanted was to go home and curl up in some nice warm clothes and veg out on her couch for a day or ten.

Hearing the click of Janet's heels she took a deep breath and carefully rolled to her back, pushing herself up in the bed. She pasted a smile on her face just as Janet pushed the curtain aside. "Morning."

"Good morning. I didn't think you'd be awake yet," the doctor said, setting down a take out tray of coffee and a bag of bagels.

"What time is it?" Sam ran her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth it down a bit, ignoring how even moving her left arm twinged the muscles in her back.

"A little after nine. From what Brenda told me, I thought you'd still be asleep." She peeled back the small opening on the lid and handed the coffee to Sam, who took an appreciative sip.

"I slept most of yesterday. When can I go home?" Sam asked, trying to change the subject. She should have known the nurse would tell Janet.

"Later on today," the doctor said, spreading some cream cheese on a blueberry bagel and handing it to Sam. "Once I check out that shoulder one more time."

Sam accepted it and took a bite, feeling the combination of caffeine and food clearing her slightly fuzzy head. Later on today. That was good. Just a few more hours. She could fake it for a few more hours.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jack tossed the last report into his out box and triumphantly put the lid on his pen. Finished. All the paper work that had piled up over the last few days was now finished and ready to be forwarded onto…whoever read them. Teal'c was going off with SG-3 for the next couple of weeks and Daniel was going to go dig in the dirt with SG-11 on some archaeological site. Which meant with Carter laid up he had not much more than paper work to keep him occupied. And thanks to the miracle of e-mail, it was paperwork he could do at home, at least for a few days.

Taking a quick glance at his watch, he grimaced and cursed under his breath. He was later than he'd planned. Hurriedly signing off his computer he tossed a few papers into a satchel and made his way to the locker room. He'd change real fast then go spring Carter and take her home.

"Damn it." He heard as he entered the room.

"Carter? What the hell are you doing?" he demanded of the woman sitting on the bench. She was wearing civvies, or mostly civvies. What he knew to be a standard issue black T-shirt with blue jeans was close enough to being civilian dress. She was bent over and at the sound of his voice, straightened up suddenly, resulting in a quick gasp and her biting her lip.

"Colonel," she said through clenched teeth.

"That's my name. What are you doing?" he repeated, sitting beside her on the bench. Her right arm was in a sling and he could see what had likely caused her cursing. The untied tennis shoes on her feet.

"Janet released me so I'm going home." She stood up, ignoring the untied laces and reached for her jacket. She struggled a bit getting it off the hanger and he fought the urge to reach in and help her. She was already in some sort of mood or she wouldn't be trying so hard to slip away.

"Cool," he said cheerfully. "Give me five minutes to change and I'll give you a lift." He got up and crossed to his locker, reaching for his khakis and shirt.

"Sir, that's not necessary. I'm perfectly capable of driving myself home," she protested as he took off his shirt and sat down to unlace his boots. He knew from the slightly muffled sound of her voice that she was turned away from him, facing the wall.

"Normally I'd agree with you but, first of all you're not a lefty and second you've probably got enough narcotics in your system to get you a DUI." He unzipped his pants and slid them off, exchanging the OD green for his comfortable worn khaki. "It's no big deal. I've taken Daniel home a few times."

"Colonel…"

"Carter," he cut her off, zipping his pants and turning around. "I'm giving you a ride home. Teal'c is harassing the Marines, Daniel's futzing with SG-11 and Hammond's run out of forms for me to fill out. You'll be doing me a favor." He saw her slump slightly and close her eyes, a sure sign that she'd given up. "If you pull the laces tight and stuff them into your shoe it'll work," he said. "I've gotten along one handed more than once," he explained. She sat down and followed his suggestion as he put on his shirt and shoes. "Ready?" he asked, slipping on his bomber jacket. She got to her feet and stood there with her jacket in her hand. He crossed to her and took the item from her, laying it over her shoulders. "Let's go," he suggested.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam carefully sat down on the sofa and slowly leaned back against the cushions. Thank God she was home. Finally. Never had that drive from Cheyenne Mountain seemed so long or the road so rough. She closed her eyes and felt a little regret at exactly how she'd left the infirmary. Janet had discharged her and was just starting her 'you need someone to take care of you' spiel when the klaxons blared and the call for medical assistance had come from the control room. Janet left with a 'I'll be right back' promise.

Taking advantage of her friend's absence, Sam slipped from the infirmary and made her way to the locker room. She didn't need anyone's help. True, she was nowhere near top form but she could sure as heck get herself home. Changing her clothes hadn't been easy but she'd managed, although she had sat on that bench for several minutes waiting for the world to stop spinning.

She didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that the colonel had come in when he had. The drive had been uncomfortable enough in his truck's cushioned seats but now she had to deal with him being here, in her house. Which was the last place he should be for both of their sakes.

"You ok?" She opened her eyes to see him standing before her a concerned look on her face.

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

He shrugged. "You hungry? I can whip up a mean scrambled eggs," he offered.

"No. Thank you." She pushed herself up from the couch, her jacket falling unheeded off her shoulders. "I think I'm just going to go take a nap. Thanks for the ride," she dismissed, hoping he'd take the hint.

She climbed the stairs to her bedroom knowing that he was still standing in her living room. She was being rude she knew but right at the moment she didn't care. All she wanted was to crawl under the comforter and sleep until the pain went away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jack watched Sam slowly make her way up the stairs and sighed. Damn that woman was stubborn. Would it hurt her that much to just relax? It wasn't like he was going to jump her bones for crying out loud. Then again, after all that had happened in the last year, who could blame her? Ever since Anise's machine and that damned power plant she'd been more than careful to maintain her distance, doing all she could to assure that the two of them were never alone. And that whole mess with Orlin hadn't helped either. She said she understood how he and Hammond had had to act, but he knew that while Major Carter might understand, Sam Carter was doubtlessly still angry and hurt.

He picked up her jacket and carried it with him into her kitchen. A quick survey of the fridge and cabinets revealed that she had another thing in common with him, a distinct lack of food. He pulled her house keys out of the pocket and hung the jacket up in the hall closet on his way out the door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam rolled and moaned as she put pressure on her shoulder. Rolling back she lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that it was late evening and she'd been asleep for hours. She needed to get up, see if there was something to eat in the kitchen and take some drugs.

She groaned. That's what she'd forgotten. Janet hadn't given her any pills before she'd left. Ok. She'd live. Surely she had something.

Slowly, she eased out of bed kicking her discarded tennis shoes out of the way. She made her way into the bathroom and snapped on the light, wincing a bit until her eyes adjusted. Opening the medicine cabinet she found a small envelope of pills left over from the last time.

She awkwardly shook out two and tossed them back, washing them down with some water. Ok. Drugs taken, now food. She had to have something to eat downstairs. She walked out of the bathroom and started to slowly make her way to the hall. She stopped short and let out a small squeal as a dark shape peered cautiously around the open door. "Carter?" She heard the figure whisper.

She brought her good hand up and laid it on her chest, her heart pounding. "Colonel," she gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you to wake up." He stepped into the room. "Are you hungry?"

"Why are you here? I thought you left hours ago."

"I did. Hit the grocery store and came back." He crossed the room and gently took her hand, leading her to the bed. "Why don't you crawl in, or better yet." He snagged a pair of sweat pants from the small pile of laundry she hadn't put away yet. "Take off those jeans and get comfortable. I'll go down and heat up dinner and be right back." He turned and left the room before she could say anything.

Hearing the clatter of pots and pans she realized that he apparently was serious. Fumbling with the button of her jeans she decided to go for what little control she had left.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jack flipped the pancakes just as the microwave dinged, signaling that the bacon was warm. He pulled the paper towel covered plate out of the machine noticing the stickers still stuck to the outside that proclaimed it's newness.

Dividing up the meat, he turned the pancakes one last time and scooped them up, creating twin stacks on the two plates. He knew she rarely ate the heavier breakfast foods but he also knew it'd been hours since she'd eaten and a hot meal would do her good.

"It smells good."

He turned to see her standing in the doorway. "I could have brought this…"

"I don't like…eating upstairs," she interrupted walking slowly past him and sitting gingerly at the table.

With a shrug he instead set the plate in front of her, reaching back to follow suit with the silverware and condiments. She gave him a small smile and poured some syrup over the steaming pancakes. "They're good," she complimented after taking a bite.

"O'Neill family recipe." She frowned and nodded towards the Bisquick box on the counter. He followed her gaze and smiled. "Yep. Exactly like mom used to make."

She smiled and applied herself to the plate of food, eating all of the pancakes and bacon. "That was good, sir. Thanks." She drained the glass of milk he'd set on the table and got up, carrying her plate over to the dishwasher.

"I got that," Jack protested, getting up from his chair.

"I can get it." She opened the dishwasher and put her plate into the racks. She reached out and took the plate from his hands and set it beside hers. She closed the door and turned to face him. "This was nice colonel but it's late."

"Are you kicking me out?"

"I'm just…I'm sure you have better things to do than hang around here." She walked past him and headed back towards the stairs.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm…gonna get a bath and get some sleep."

Jack shrugged. "Ok. Call me if you need something. I mean it," he insisted trying not to be offended by her actions.

"I will. Thanks." He watched her head back upstairs then took one glance around the kitchen, putting the dirty pans into the dishwasher. He then grabbed his coat from the closet and left, careful to lock the door behind him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jack ambled into the commissary his eyes scoping out vacant tables. He'd just discovered another thing about the rest of his team being off or otherwise occupied, a distinct lack of people to bother and dinner companions. Not that he minded eating alone…when he was alone. Thinking maybe he'd just grab a sandwich and take it back to his office, he headed for the serving area.

"Colonel?" He turned to see Doctor Fraiser walk into the room.

"Doc. Care to join me for lunch?" Jack invited.

"Thanks, sir, but I need to get back. I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you were staying with Sam," she clarified in a low voice.

"Oh. I did yesterday but…she said she was fine so….here I am."

Janet frowned and shook her head. "She's as stubborn as you are," she muttered under her breath.

"Excuse me?"

Janet reached into her pocket and pulled out a small envelope of pills. "When she slipped out of here yesterday she forgot to take these. Could you drop them off for me?"

"What are they?" Jack asked, taking them from her.

"Pain killers and muscle relaxants," she answered. Jack nodded, remembering that he'd received much the same when he'd dislocated his shoulder. "I was going to give them to her yesterday but she disappeared before I could," she said her tone accusatory.

"Are you sure you don't want to run them by yourself? You could give her hell and give her drugs all at the same time," he suggested, remembering the tone of Carter's voice when she'd basically kicked him out last night. He knew exactly WHY she did it and he respected her boundaries.

"I would sir, but I've got three teams due back today. And with Doctor Warner on leave, we're short handed already."

"Ok. I'll head on over there. I've pretty much got everything caught up here anyway."

Janet smiled. "Thanks Colonel, I appreciate it." He walked past her and out of the room. She shook her head then picked up a tray. Sometimes it was like pulling teeth.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jack made his way up the sidewalk feeling distinctly like he was headed to Hammond's office for a dressing down. He knew what Carter was doing, and he knew exactly why she felt she had to do it. He totally understood her motives. That didn't help his frustration any. They were both adults and they could both spend time with each other without it meaning they were SPENDING TIME with each other. Men and women have friendships all the time. He knew that. Now if he could just convince her.

Reaching the door, he frowned at the sight of a large vase of flowers sitting on the stoop. Picking them up he rang the doorbell. As he waited for an answer he turned and surveyed the neighborhood, feeling slightly silly standing there holding the heavy vase. There were a few people walking through the park across the street. He could see why she'd chosen the neighborhood; it looked very quiet and tranquil.

Still not getting an answer, he reached for his cell phone and his fingers encountered an unfamiliar ring of keys. Damn. He hadn't remembered to take her keys out of his pocket last night. Which happened to be a good thing, he thought as he shifted his burden and opened the door.

"Carter?" he called out, not wanting to surprise her. Tossing her keys on the hall table he walked into the house. It looked exactly like it had last night. "Carter?" He started up the stairs. Her car was still at the mountain so she couldn't have gone far.

Thinking he heard a faint sound, he hurried up the stairs. He opened the door to the bedroom and hurriedly set the flowers down on the dresser. "Carter, what's wrong?" He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Sam was curled up on her left side, obviously in pain. He could see that she'd apparently taken her bath and changed her clothes, now wearing a tank top and sleep pants. He could see the dark shadows of bruises peeking from under the edges of the tank top. Apparently Fraiser hadn't exaggerated that part. Her right arm was still in the sling and her left hand was crossed across her chest, grasping her right arm tightly. "Sam?" He laid his hand on her injured arm.

"Hurts…God it hurts," she gasped out.

"Your arm?" She nodded. "It's probably a cramp." He put his other hand on her injured arm wincing at the feel of knotted muscle. He saw her bite her lip as he started to massage the muscles, working out the cramp. As the muscles released he felt her relax, her breathing evening out.

"Thank you," she said, slowly rolling to her back. "I thought it'd never stop."

"Never? How long has this been going on?"

"It…early this morning," she admitted. "Usually I could work them out but I couldn't reach this one."

"Why didn't you call?" he demanded.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "You know why."

"Carter…"

"You shouldn't be here," she said, slowly sitting up in the bed.

"Why not?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Do I really need to spell it out?"

"Look, I'm sure you can come up with a dozen reasons why, up to and including the fact that I'm dead in at least two alternate realities. But…where in all that do you get that we can't even be in the same room without a bodyguard?"

"Colonel…"

"No." Jack held up a hand to silence her. "We're adults. And we're CO and second in command. And there are regs that say we can't….fraternize. But where in those regs does it say that we can't be friends?"

"Friends?"

"Friends. Co-workers, colleagues, compatriots. Friends. And some day if that friendship grows into something else…we'll deal with it then," he said sincerely.

"Do friends usually buy friends flowers?" She nodded at the vase on the dresser.

"Huh? Oh. They're not from me." He slid off the bed and pulled the card from the holder. "They were sitting on your doorstep." He handed the small envelope to her and watched her open it. "I think they're from Daniel. Carter?" He said, frowning at the look on her face.

She closed her eyes and held the card up. "Want to reconsider that friends thing?"

_'Sam, as delightful as your commissary was, maybe we can have lunch again, this time at my place. Joe Faxon'_ Jack read.

"Maybe I should come with a warning label," she quipped bitterly. "He died because of me." She looked him in the eyes. "If I hadn't have opened the iris then I wouldn't have had to leave him behind."

Jack crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed. "Look, you did what you HAD to. As much as it sucks, one life is a small price to pay for saving billions."

"I was responsible for him. I should have sent him over first."

"Stop. Woulda, coulda, shoulda doesn't change a thing. Did you ask him about his rappelling skills during lunch?" She shook her head. "For all you know he coulda froze and both of you wouldn't have made it back. You made the best decision you could at the time."

"Would you have done it?" She asked seriously.

"I…I don't know. Maybe. Sam, I wasn't there. There are a thousand things that effect a decision, the look on Boren's face, how Melom acted…what your gut instinct was. I think I would have done the same thing," he reassured. "Is this why you've been avoiding us lately?" he asked abruptly, holding up the card.

"Sir?"

"You're not buying into this…curse crap are you? Because we're not."

"Colonel…"

"No," He interrupted. "You've had some…really bad luck lately but none of it had anything to do with you. If you want to blame someone, blame the snakehead that programmed Marty, or the idiots at the NID who wouldn't listen to you or whoever Tanith is working with. They're the ones to blame, you just have the rotten luck to pick guys that get stuck in the middle."

"And Joe?" she asked pointedly.

"Joe's death can be laid squarely on the self-serving ego-centric shoulders of one idiotic 'Senator' Kinsey."

"I…" she broke off.

"What?" She shook her head, instead scooting over to get off the bed. Jack shot out a hand to stay her movement. "What?"

She closed her eyes. "I don't know…I don't know if I can handle it if something happened to one of you guys," she admitted quietly.

"Hey. We've died before. We're still here. We'll always be here," he promised.

"You can't know that."

"No. I can't. We could go on a mission and one of us or hell, maybe all of us won't come back. Davis could get lazy and forget to open the iris, you could try time sharing your head with another alien, I could trip and fall in the shower tonight." He tightened his grip on her hand. "The point is, you can't isolate yourself from everyone just so you won't get hurt. That's no way to live. I didn't want to ever give a damn about anyone after Charlie. And when I realized that I actually do, it scared me half to death. I don't ever want to feel that kind of grief again. But…I don't want to be alone forever either. Life is a game and you have to take chances. Sometimes you'll win and sometime you'll lose. And sometimes it'll hurt like hell but…that's when you lean on your friends a little to get through it." She sighed and nodded. "I should probably get back. I bet Hammond has come up with something for me to do." He released her hand and got off the bed.

"Colonel. I have no idea what I have downstairs but…do you want to call out for a pizza or something?" she invited getting off the bed and standing up.

"You inviting me for lunch, major?" Jack teased.

"Yeah, colonel. I think I am," she teased back.

"Pizza beats the hell out of lemon chicken," he said.

"Lemon chicken?"

He shrugged. "Some new recipe the cook was trying out."

"Any other life altering events I've missed?" She asked, following him out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

"Other than someone putting up a dart board with Simmons' face on it…nothing much," he said following her into the kitchen.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think Hammond's going to have a contest. Whoever scores the most points gets a free day off."

"I don's suppose we could get some targets made, use them on the firing range," she suggested.

"Targets?"

"Yeah. I can shoot left handed."

Fin


End file.
